


in the jungle

by badAquatic, orphan_account



Series: Trailerstuck [30]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human/Troll Society, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, F/M, Illustrated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2013-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-18 04:29:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/875633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badAquatic/pseuds/badAquatic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All it takes is a single postcard to cause a rippling disturbance in the Harley trailer and Jade is determined to figure out why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in the jungle

**Author's Note:**

> “Living in a big city can be compared to existing in a jungle. One becomes a creature of the environment. The response to the rhythms and choreography is visceral and before long a dweller's conduct is as distinctive as those of a jungle inhabitant.” 
> 
> ― Will Eisner, City People Notebook

**== >Jade: Investigate the disturbance **

Your don’t know why your grandfather is in this funk; all he’s done for the past week is sit in his arm chair in the living room and watch old YBBC sitcoms. You wonder if it has something to with the fact you had to explain you had no idea what his Young British lingo meant. Or if you had to admit you found troll quadrants more attractive since he kept asking about your (vacant) love life.

Or it could have been that delivery earlier in the week; an innocuous wrinkled and stained envelope that had been pushed through the mail slot with no signs of postage or address on it. At first your grandfather hesitated opening it, let it sit in the cabinet in the kitchen and avoided it. He wouldn’t tell you where it from and if he opened it in private, he wouldn’t tell you its contents.

 _Some sleuthing is order,_ you decide. While your grandfather is vegging out to The All-New Monty Python’s Flying Circus, you creep to the kitchen. The letter is still there in the cabinet, amongst the porcelain figurine of a hunting man accompanied by his dog and a few pictures of you as a squinty little kid holding your first rifle. Glancing to the living room and seeing your grandfather still uninterested, you open the envelope and pull out a yellowing postcard. There’s a stamp with the current Child Queen of Young Britain on it; where the address would be is a stamp New Union Jack in green and the words “j.h. harley sr.”. The text here is brief; the handwriting elegant cursive with loops and knobs and thick lines.

 

Dear Boss—

I send you this as warning that the deal is now off & I’ve come to town. You was rite not to trust a jujueater. I’ll be keeping my way roundabout town & doing my business. I trust you to keep your colours out of mine & there won’t be no trouble.

signed

From hell

 

Well that made no sense on top of being a pain the ass to read. You try to see if there’s anything else in the envelope, a picture or any clues as to whoever this ‘From hell’ person is, but there's nothing else.You take the envelope and postcard to your room and sit on your bed, turning on your husktop. It could be a Young British code or slang that you’re missing. Your Trollichum opens up on start-up and see Rose hasn’t responded to your messages and she’s inactive on Trollbook. You google ‘From hell’ and open up a tab for your Trollumblr to see if your Beckoner blog has anymore asks.

 

\--hoodieWolf[HW] began trolling gardenGnostic[GG]!—

 

HW: Hey jade have you seen the upd8?

GG: no i just got on but im going to look at it now :)

HW: Hey uh i just wanted to check on you to see if everythings okay after. uh. yesterday.

GG: oh yeah

GG: yesterday

HW: I still think you should have told the boss what happened

GG: tsuris its not that big of a deal and what could the boss have done?

GG: plus i always have my handgun if he tries anything :)

 

It hadn’t been anything major. You were working at the shop, washing and tuning up cars. Vinnie Makara was coming by more often and with each visit your personal space was shrinking. He kept asking questions; where you lived, if you liked parties, if you had anything nice to wear. He seemed intent on trying to grab your ass. You declined. Constantly. And tried to avoid him.

 

HW: Yeah… and the njpd wouldn’t care if you shot him thanks to that stupid ass ‘stand your ground’ law but still…

GG: its not the first time ive been harassed at the garage tsuris

GG: you know some trolls. they think topping a human makes them superior and when they get bored you get gutted or sold. If i dont buy into it hell lose interest. im not your traditional human beauty like roses mom and theres plenty of fish in the sea.

HW: Uh actually, jade, with your muscles and scars youre *more* attractive to trolls who value strength over uh… squishy beauty.

GG: i know ive gotten my ass pinched enough times during gym >:(

HW: Which I sort of offered to, um, take care of… for you…

GG: oh come on, tsuris. those guys would break you in half and eat you!! XD

HW: Theyre not that big! I could take them!

GG: anyways i showed them who was boss and they stopped bothering me. i don’t have to worry about that crap until september. :/

GG: right now im trying to figure out this postcard

HW: Someone sent you a postcard? Who bothers with that?

 

With storms, swamps, thievery, and lusus attacks, the public postal service was miserable in New Jack City and other coastal city-states. The city found it easier to employ private postal unions through Apexcom, Megamatics, or WSI rather than the government funded mail. Still there was the matter of expense and it was easier to send a Microhusk Personalized ARcard rather than go through the task of postage.

 

GG: i dont know who its from. it looks foreign. :/

HW: Foreign?

GG: here. let me show you. 

 

You snap a pic of the postcard and envelope with your husktop’s webcam.

 

\--gardenGnostic sent postcard.jpg!--

\--gardenGnostic sent envelope.jpg!--

HW: Huh. this is pretty weird looking. And who’s “j.h. harley sr.”?

GG: thats my grandfathers name. jake hass harley senior.

HW: could it be from a relative?

GG: i dont think so. grandpas the only one left in his family and grandma died when i was little. if i have family left theyre back in young britain and they never bothered with us before.

HW: what about your mother’s side?

GG: theyre in young britain too and they dont like me :(

HW: Why?

GG: young britains sorta backwards. they place a big deal on lineage and tradition. i was an accident and my parents were young and unmarried. the rest of the family wanted to abandon me and sort of forget about the whole mess but grandpa kept me. he bought me to new jack so i wouldn’t be mocked by the rest of the family. :(

HW: That’s pretty extreme. leaving a whole country behind because you had a kid out of quadrantlock?

GG: it was a really bad situation because my parents were from prominent old money families and it was all over the papers apparently. what papers couldnt be bribed not to run that story, that is. :/

HW: Oh. so what happened to your mom?

GG: grandpa said her parents shipped her off to a boarding school in nehetaly after i was born. once she got to nehetaly she ran off with some guy. my father died in a hunting accident. grandpa doesn’t like to talk about either of them. :(

HW: because it’s painful?

GG: no. he hates them both. a lot.

HW: hates them?

GG: well not pitch but a long held scorn cause they were really irresponsible. my moms parents wanted to dump me in an home with the other pox (that’s what young brits call illegitimates and mutants) but grandpa wouldnt let them. he had to leave his home and his friends and family behind and come to this shitty place so yeah i think hes pretty bitter.

HW: Maybe the letter is from your mother’s parents? Maybe they want to make amends or something?

GG: maybe. i could ask john’s mom about this since she talks to grandpa all the time. :/

HW: I thought you were mad at john?

GG: yeah im mad cause hes an idiot but weve been friends for ages and i wish rose would talk to him about things. hes pretty lonely now since hes on tour with all those phoney baloney acting jerks.

HW: If he misses rose why doesnt he just go see her?

GG: no one knows where rose is or what shes doing and john cant really drop everything since hes getting paid to be touring. i know hes a dumbass but I cant blame him for wanting to make some money and get out of this craphole city.

HW: Have you tried following her?

GG: well i could but I cant do it alone. even with a handgun its still not safe in the summertime in certain places. i work long hours most of the time and even though im worried about rose but i also have to focus on a scholarship so i can hopefully go to college. :/

HW: What are you going for? automotive engineering?

GG: well i do like cars but im better at electronic gadgets and physics. id like to make a better fuel cell so that electronics can last longer so i think im going into nuclear-chemical engineering. apexcom, nii, and fitzpatrick megamatics are all looking for people in that field since well. lets be honest. theres only like six people in ap calculus and only sollux, equius, and me know what were doing.

GG: what are you going to do tsuris? :)

HW: Idk jade. i was thinking the military but my horns are too big and i dont want to cut them down. i think im just gonna take more automotive and robotics courses so i can just work for megamatics.

HW: But if dad gets worse i might just pack up and go to that wind farm or biomass plant in south new jack and just work there

 

You’ve never been all the way in the south where the biofuel plants but you’ve heard stories about what it’s like. The areas with the biofuel plants smell of decomposing matter and sulfur. The giant solar panel fields are blinding if you’re not careful. The wind turbines turn the sun into a strobe light. The compost heaps and fertilizers can spontaneously combust if you’re not careful. It was constant work that had you on your toes.

 

GG: but thats so far though! we’ll never see each other again! :(

HW: We’ll still talk online and meet up but i think maybe the country would be better for dad. its too dangerous for him to wander around. i’ve started locking the doors when i leave the trailer.

HW: Did you see the news?

GG: yeah… :(

 

Two shootings in the same night on Heidecker and Meyer, the streets that border Aniline End. This morning a purpleblood was found stuffed into the dumpster outside of the Raffil Fried Chicken on 19th Street. The body had been mutilated, surgical cuts had been used to pull out the organs and the tongue split. He’d definitely suffered before he died. If more monstrosities happened in Aniline End, the news didn’t report it.

 

GG: ill miss you if you go :(

HW: I’ll miss you too jade but we’ll always be friends right?

GG: right:)

HW: I should go now and check on dad but ill take to you later okay?

GG: okay :)

 

\--hoodieWolf[HW] ceased trolling gardenGnostic[GG]!--

 

You look at your google search see searching “From hell” has turned up an ancient horror movie and comic book with the title, which seems to be about someone called Jack the Ripper, which isn’t helpful at all. You try to augment your search when your Trollichum flashes.

 

\--adiosToreador[AT] began trolling gardenGnostic[GG]!--

 

AT: sO, uH, hEY THERE,,,

GG: go away >:(

AT: oH COME ON, jADE, i WANT TO TALK TO YOU,

GG: i want you to GO AWAY you big jerk!! >:[

AT: dON’T BE SUCH A LITTLE KID ABOUT THIS,

GG: you are! >:[

AT: wOULD YOU SHUT UP AND LISTEN? i’M TRYING TO APOLOGIZE,

GG: oh really? well I don’t have the time for it tavros. im busy.

AT: wITH WHAT?

GG: stuff!

AT: wHAT STUFF?

GG: important stuff!

AT: bULLSHIT,

GG: the stuff i am doing is very important!! >:[

AT: yOU WERE RIGHT ABOUT HANAEL AND ME, tHE ENTIRE THING,

GG: …

GG: oh

AT: yEAH,,,

GG: well.

GG: this is awkward.

AT: yEAH, i KNOW IT DOESN’T EXCUSE ME FOR BEING AN ASSHOLE BUT i FIGURED THAT MAYBE LETTING YOU KNOW YOU WERE RIGHT ON THE MONEY ABOUT ME BEING IN AN ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP MIGHT, i DON’T KNOW, rEPAIR *SOMETHING*,

AT: aND i DO MISS HANGING OUT WITH YOU, jADE, wATCHING YOU TRY TO MAKE CRAZY GADGETS WITH GARAGE AND WHATEVER YOU CAN FIND,

AT: aND I’M FEELING A LOT BETTER NOW, aBOUT MYSELF, aBOUT, a LOT OF THINGS THAT HAVE HAPPENED AND I HAVE A MATESPRIT NOW THAT ACTUALLY DOES CARE ABOUT ME,

AT: sORRY TO, uH, tHROW IT IN YOUR FACE THAT I HAVE SOMEONE,,, nOW,,,

GG: no its okay :)

GG: im glad you’re happy again and not being some gross hoodrat poser

AT: i DON’T KNOW IF I’M HAPPY, bUT I’M A LOT BETTER THAN I WAS BEFORE,

GG: why wouldnt you be happy :?

AT: oH, yOU KNOW, tHERE ARE JUST CERTAIN THINGS THAT ARE NEVER GOING TO BE THE SAME AGAIN, aND CERTAIN THINGS YOU CAN NEVER REALLY,,,, ERASE,

AT: aND LOOKING BACK ON HOW i LET HIM TREAT ME IS REALLY,,, mORTIFYING,

AT: aND NOW THERE’S THIS GANG WAR GOING ON BECAUSE OF ME TOO,,,

GG: whoa back up 8I

GG: what now 8I

AT: oH YEAH,,, THAT,,, UH,

AT: oKAY, lONG STORY SHORT, i WAS COOKING SOPORIN FOR HANAEL TO AVOID DOING,,, oTHER THINGS,,, aND APPARENTLY THE UBK WANTED ME AS A FULLTIME COOK, bUT GAMZEE GOT ME OUT OF IT AND NOW HE’S ON THE UBK’S SHIT LIST ALONG WITH ALL THE REST OF THE BROTHERHOOD,

GG: so you know the vivisected troll in aniline end? 8I

AT: wELL, hERE'S THE THING, i KNOW *OF* HIM BUT I DON'T KNOW HIM PERSONALLY, tHEY'RE PINNING THE DEATH ON THE UBK BUT I DON'T THINK ITS THEM,

GG: what makes you say that?

AT: tHE UBK IS MORE ABOUT SHOOTING YOU POINT BLANK, tHEY WOULDN’T LEAVE A BODY OUT IN THE OPEN, aND TORTURE LIKE THAT ISN’T THEIR THING EITHER,

AT:tHE BODY FOUND FACEDOWN IN THE PARKING LOT ON MIRMAN DRIVE THREE DAYS AGO WITH THE BULLET WOUNDS WAS PROBABLY THEM,,,

AT: i TRY NOT TO THINK ABOUT IT,,, ALL THOSE PEOPLE DEAD BECAUSE OF *ME* TURNING DOWN THE BITCH,,,

GG: tavros youre not the one responsible for this. its everyone else being a violent dickhead as usual :(

GG: hey!! you know what would cheer you up? :D

AT: wHAT?  

GG: adventure!! :D

AT: uH,

GG: c’mon! it’ll be fun! 8D

AT: wHAT SORT OF ADVENTURE,,,,?

GG: stalking rose of course :P

AT: tHAT SOUNDS KIND OF STRANGE AND ILLEGAL,

GG: theres something suspicious about the people she’s hanging out with and i want to find out about this postcard too! cmon! itll be like when we were in middle school and we went to that haunted daycare! :D

AT: iT WASN'T HAUNTED, tHERE WAS JUST THAT CRAZY LIMEHEAD LIVING THERE AND THEN YOU FOUND THAT GIANT RAT YOU WANTED TO KEEP,

GG: rats are cute. :P

AT: rATS ARE NOT CUTE, tHEY’RE VERMIN, aND YOU SHOULDN’T HUG THEM, jADE,

GG: rats are very cute! and they do an important job of being nature’s garbage disposal. theyre sacred in indie. :P

AT: *eVERYTHING* IS SACRED IN INDIE, tHEY’RE DON’T KNOW ANY BETTER,

 

As tradition with your friendship, you make up and immediately start bickering again. Ten minutes later Tavros arrives at your trailer wearing his usual shorts and hood, ready to go on your ‘adventure’.You decide to go snooping about the postcard first, checking in with your neighbors to see who delivered the envelope. The soporin junkie to the left of you is in too much of a daze to have noticed anything going on. The paranoid gun-nut white carapace to the right of you says he didn’t see anybody and if you step on his property he’s going to put a bullet between your eyes. You offer, unfazed, that you’re five times the better shot he is having five fingers and a handgun in your pocket. The neighbors across the street won’t come out of their trailers to talk to you. They probably think you’re a Clockwork’s Observer.

“We could ask Dave; maybe he saw something from the back.” Tavros suggests.

“No way I’m going over there. We’ll just argue.” and you don’t want to interrupt Dave kissing Karkat.

Tavros smirks, “You’re scared.”

“Am not!”

“Way to be brave about this, Harley. We’re supposed to be solving a mystery here and you’ve gone from Velma to Daphne.”

“You know, it’s not a good idea to tease someone who’s won Miss Crackshot two years in a row.”

Tavros grins. “It’s _fun_ though.”

You punch him in the arm and go to Ms. Lalonde’s trailer. When you knock on the door, Ms. Lalonde answers wearing a top and skirt that barely cover her body. 

“Oh, Jadie!” She smiles. “I haven’t seen you around in a while. You’re lucky you caught me; I was just heading out.What’s wrong?”

You elbow Tavros so he’ll stop staring at her tits, “Um, well, we were looking for Rose.”

Ms. Lalonde frowns. “I’m sorry. Rosie’s at work.”

“So she’s working now…” Tavros mutters.

“She’s in an internship program in a joint program with the library and LilCal Picture; you know, the company that makes Lopan Street and Exile Rock.” But the troubled look on her face isn’t convincing you about the ‘good news’, “Why do you look so unhappy though?”

She sighs, “I’m happy for my Rosie but… what kind of corpguy has a flat in the Red Quad? I’m worried about her safety hanging out there.”

The Red Quad isn’t far from Dockside. If you were looking to get mugged or kidnapped, all you had to do was linger the streets and look like a lost tourist. “I wanted to talk to her but she doesn’t answer her Trollichum.”

“She barely comes home these days.” Her eyes turn watery, “I-I think she’s ashamed of me. A-and who wouldn’t be…?”

“What? No way! You’re like the coolest Mom ever, Ms. Lalonde!” This isn’t the time to mention that what Rose's Mom does for a living is an open secret.

She dabs at her eyes with a scented pink kerchief so her eyeliner doesn’t run. “I-it’s alright… I’m fine. I’m used to being treated like this. I’m sure Rosie will understand.” She sighs, “Eventually.”

You leave the trailer with Tavros following. “Why didn’t you ask her about the postcard?”

“She was upset and a good detective knows you can’t get good information out of someone who’s distressed. I didn’t want to weird her out too much before work.”

“If you can call that work.”

“Stop it. She wants to support her daughter and that’s better than half of the people here.”

“ _Whatever_ ; at least get to the point with John’s Mom.”

Ms. Egbert is in the front yard garden, pruning her spoon shaped bushes and humming amongst the butterflies. Hanging from the red and white awning are crickets in a decorative metal box.

She smiles, “Jade! Its been ages since I saw you come around .Aww, and you brought Gamzee’s matepsrit.”

Tavros narrows his eyes, “How do you kn—”

“I have to ask you something.” you say.

Ms. Egbert walks to the door, “Come on in! We shouldn’t be talkin’ out here like folks who en’t got any manners.”

You’re seated in the kitchen, served sugary scones, cream, and tea. After biting into a scone topped with raspberry jam you pass her the postcard, which you placed in a plastic baggy. “Do you know where this is from?”

“Hm.” Ms. Egbert squints, “Where’d you get this from?”

“It showed up at my trailer at the start of the week. My grandfather won’t tell me about it, but it upsets him. You talk with him a lot so I figured maybe you knew about it.”

“Only vaguely.”

You smile, “So you know who it’s from?”

“No, but I can tell _where_ its from. Look”—she points to the word _colour—_ “this is how th’y spell th’ word overseas and th’ letters are very looped, th’ way th’y teach letters in Lemurian schools.”

“Lemuria?” Tavros asks.

“Oh; th’ Eastern Continent.” Ms. Egbert chuckles and hands the postcard back. “We called it Lemuria back home. Lemuria, Cimmeria, Mu, Ur...” She sighs, “Some things you never unlearn no matter how many naturalization classes you take...”

“Why would someone put this in an envelope, put stamps on it, but hand deliver it?”

Ms. Egbert shrugs, “I know back home when certain folks weren’t s’posed to be seein’ oth’r folks th’y sneak about usin’ posts like this. Stamps were a safety code so you know th’ letter’s from someone else. But I don’t know what this once could mean, though.”

So it is as you expected; the stamps and phrasing must be a cipher but you’re not sure what it means or the why.

Tavros’s eyes have been on the Signless symbols hanging on the wall and the religious wall scrolls. “So,” he says, “you’re human, but why worship a troll?”

Ms. Egbert smiles, “It’s not His species that matters to us Orthodoxians but His divine message. Jegus Signless was a creature of pure divinity, a bein’ that embodies the pure sentience of all and whoever gazed upon Him would see th’mselves reflected. To th’ Humans, he is Human. To th’ Trolls, he is Troll, and so on. He tried to carry his message before, all across paradoxspace.”

“Well, that’s good to know.” You lie. You only know the bare bones of religion; that Orthodoxians believed the Signless to be divinity incarnate, a constantly reincarnated matyr doomed to either bring peace or war, the Marchists prefer their Signless as a troll who was blessed with Divine Spirits to do his works, and the hundreds of other denomination you couldn’t even pretend to care about. “How’s John?”

“Li’l Johnny’s doin’ fine, touring and earnin’ plenty of money. He’s a smart boy; says he’s savin’ it all for somethin’ special.” She frowns, “He’s been in a funk though, since he stopped seein’ Rose. I keep tryin’ to introduce him to oth’r girls at th’ church but he seems fixated on Rose. Oh well. You can plan a pretty picnic but you can’t predict th’ weath’r.”

 _Who you hated and drove away_ you think but continue smiling. “Rose always thought you hated her. Even if it wasn’t true, she always assumes people think the worst of her cause… well… the kids at school do.”

Ms. Egbert stares at you, the shock in her face genuine. “Rose is my goddaughter. I could _never_ hate her. I don’t agree with her religious views, but I don’t _hate_ her. I could never hate such a sweet young girl. I know what it’s like to grow up missing a parent, being teased for how you look. In New Jack it’s because of her eyes and her weight, but back home it’s the same. You either had brown-eyes or you were a freak.” She sighs, “I just want my li’l Johnny to be happy again.”

You see the hurt in her eyes and you feel like an ass for thinking she was a Tome-thumping bitch. She isn’t evil, she's just worried about her son and that’s all she has left in the world. “Me too…” you mutter.

You leave the trailer, full of sugary scone and tea. You say to Tavros, “I don’t think I’m ever going to figure out where this postcard came from.”

Tavros folds his arms, “Like I _really_ give a shit about you and your weird mummy-loving family, Harley; why did you bring me along? Am I supposed to be the sensible Watson to your obnoxious Holmes?”

You kick him playfully in the back of the leg. He stumbles and glares at you, “You’re here to help me track Rose and you’re the only hoodrat I know.”

Tavros pulls out a cig. “More like I was dragged along.”

“Do you know which part of the Red Quad Rose would be at?”

Tavros lights his cig, smirking. “Looks like my area of expertise has come up.”

You take a bus to Main Street, then walk to Galsky Street, and into the A-Town Plaza—the geographical center of downtown New Jack. Downtown is a food desert and if you’re sensible you hop a bus to the Super-Walmart. If you’re less sensible and more suicidally cheap, you risk botulism with A-Town’s freezer-burned brown meats and roach-spray misted veggies. Just thinking about it gives you a migraine.

Tavros’s interest isn’t in A-Town’s health code violations but on the pavement graffiti outside a wig shop next to the supermarket. “The tags have changed.”

“Tags?”

“The graffiti; it tells you which gang is in charge of this area and who should stay out.” He gestures to the squiggles on the pavement that have been recently washed away and replaced with another dark green squiggle. Neither of you will point at anything in this area out of urban paranoia; there’s been too many news reports about people pointing at the wrong thing.

“Maybe the janitor did it?”

“Does this place look like it has a janitor? Or any sort of cleaning service in this entire neighorbood?”

Downtown has two layers of urban squalor. On the ground level are the overflowing garbage bins, paper and plastic bag tumbleweeds and mini-twisters, crowding of obnoxious flashing neon and strobes, the tall brick buildings that look ready to collapse and behind those the skyscraper tenements, the ‘green beans’ you used to call them. The second layer of downtown has the green-gray haze of air pollution, honking delivery hovertrucks locked into aerial traffic since the sky-high-freeway weevils through downtown. Dave calls downtown a “ghettoized Blade Runner knock-off”. Dave and you always used to talk about how it was essentially the future with amazing tech and no one gave a shit.

You miss talking to Dave, but this isn’t the time to mope. You distract your mind by saying, “So who had this area before?”

Tavros scrutinizes the rubbed-out marks, like he’s deciphering ancient hieroglyphics. “Hellcats. Their tags are jagged, darker green. This new one’s lighter green, the symbols are more cursive.”

“An offshoot?”

“An offshoot wouldn’t tag in the same place as they split off from. Doing something like this is a war declaration and Hellcats only do wars if they’re getting paid.”

Hellcats were a small local gang that made up the illegal underground fighting ring. They’d beat the shit out of each other and in return for matches, the gangs would sell them drugs and weapons. And if you needed someone’s ass kicked or merchandise needed protecting without question, you hired a Hellcat or a Street Summoner and paid them in quality soporin or steroids.

“So who’s this new group?”

“I don’t know.” Tavros frowns. “Whoever it is, it isn’t local.”

He scans the nearby people sitting on stoops tossing dice and chatting. You know your gang colors; purple for Brotherhood, indigo for UBK, dark green for Hellcats, leather jackets with winged decorations for Street Summoners, lacey eloquence and nautical theme for Demimonde. You see Street Summoners in the usual goose-formation on their hoverbikes, but no one else.

You look at the colorful penthouse buildings across the sky-high-freeway, in the center of the ‘Red Quad’. Next to it are small stores clustered together, selling “fresh” produce or ethnic foods.

“We should check for Rose over there.” you say.

“Why there?”

“She’s an intern and an intern is basically a secretary without dignity. They take notes and get food for the higher-ups. Rose isn’t going to go into A-Town because she’s sane and she’s not going to go to the other shops because they have Alternian in the window and whoever runs those shops won’t be human friendly.”

“What makes you think they’re going to tell you if Rose’s been there?”

“Well for one thing shop owners a lot friendlier if you buy something and _don’t steal._ ” You place emphasis on that last part.

You cross the wide road, keeping your eyes trained on the stoplights and hopping the metal barriers to separate the lanes. You enter the only grocery store with English in the window. The rest of the building it’s built into looks abandoned. The store shelves are crowded with boxes of Crocker Mac ‘n’ Cheese, Cullbell’s Tomato Soup, NihonUs ramen, and sugary Baroness Mills cereals. You pick out a bag of candy circus peanuts and two bottles off-brand sodas. The owner is a short human man, bald with wrinkles, yellowed teeth and wearing DynaCHEM spray-on shirt. He must be badly strapped for cash if he’s wearing the same gear they force prisoners to.

The man sees you and smiles, points to a stack of bootleg Hello Crabby figurines with slapped on paint and misshapen heads next to the cash register, “Half off. Two boon. Very good price, miss.” He says in a thick Germanium accent.

“Uh, no thanks. I’m looking for someone.” The man frowns. “It’s a young human woman. She’s got short blonde hair and purple eyes. She’s my age.”

He squints, “All sorts come here.”He’s looking you up and down, trying to see if you’re an undercover. “Why you asking?”

Before you can think of a story, Tavros does. “It’s her sister.” You glare at him but the brownblood goes on, “Her sister’s in a bad way with some older guy. He’s got her wrapped around his little finger. Moms and her always fighting about it and she’s scared she just gonna stop coming home. Gonna find out her sister got shipped to North Chinacan as some gross fucker’s plaything.” 

The man is trying to look skeptical but you see the worry in his eyes. “How old is she?”

You think on your feet. “Same age as me; just turned seventeen.” You smile sadly since you don’t have John’s acting skill to work up tears on demand. “She’s never had great confidence what with her weight and mutation… I just don’t want anything _bad_ to happen to her. I _pray_ that Jegus will watch over her but…” You sniff, “…I know it’s not enough.”

It’s mentioning prayer and Jegus that clinches the deal. The man looks at the window nervously and then leans in, whispering, “Alright; I seen your sister. She stops in here to pick up things before sunset and then she leaves.”

“Have you seen the guy she’s with?” you ask.

“I haven’t seen him up close but I seen his crew and I seen him rolling in that expensive car. They got boons but they’re weird, especially that blonde one.”

“Blonde one? My…sister?”

“No; another blonde. One of them kimmies; can’t tell if they a boy or a girl. Got a gold fang and freaky-mutant blue eyes. He pops in sometimes, buys candy and soda and always with this woman. Think it’s his big sister or his mama since she never leaves him alone for longer than a minute.”

“Woman?”

“A _big_ woman. Not fat. _Big._ ” The man flexes what little muscle he has and gestures around him to get his point across; bulky, not fat. “TWWF big. Red hair. Blue eyes just like him. Your sister will probably be in here in a few hours.”

You smile, “Thank you so much.”

You leave the store and stand to the side, blending in with the casual loiterers and people hanging outside their homes/businesses.You switch out your regular glasses for your Spectagoggles, reading the current time, wi-fi connection, and see who owns the building on the HUD for the green building, where Rose supposedly is.

“Whoever owns this building has money. They’ve done everything they can to keep it off the grid.” you say.

“Oh my gods, Harley,” Tavros groans, “You’ve gone over to the side of the nerds who need to have tiny computers in their glasses; like this is some cyberpunk dystopian future completely bankrupt of original ideas.”

“Augmented reality and virtual worlds are the way of the future!” you insist, “And you could argue that we live in a post-cyberpunk society.”

“Don’t you have like five computers?”

“You can never have too many cool computers!”

Tavros smirks, “Is this ‘cool’ on the same level as your SquiddleLunchtop and Squiddlejacket and Squiddlesneaks?”

You smirk, “Like those Troll Brian Froud shirts you were rocking were any better.”

“Troll Brian Froud is at least a good artist! The Squiddles look like they were designed by a baby who spat crayon on paper.”

“Squiddles are awesome in a totally retro-nostalgic way, you ass! Take it back!”

Instead of searching for Rose, you get into a fight with Tavros. A lot of humans are afraid of trolls; afraid of their strength, their teeth, and their growing numbers. Not you; you’ve given trolls a run for their money when it comes to your fists and aim. It’s a slap fight like your other fights but it escalates when he tries to rip your clothes and you pull on his hair. Some people stop by to look at the sight, probably to make sure you’re not getting beat on by a vicious troll, but you’re holding your own.

Tavros shoves you against the wall of the building, panting and smiling. “Fucking nerd queen.”

“You’re the bigger nerd, you asshole.”

“So you must be a nerd but not _nerdy enough_ to get Strider, who is fucking _Karkat_ of all people.”

That’s when you hit him across the face. He inches back from you, surprised. Then his eyes dilate and he grabs your face, pulling you toward him. When he kisses you, he bites down on your lip and presses his other claw into your shoulder. He presses his body against yours and you feel his warm bulge rub your thigh.

You break off the kiss, tasting iron on your lips. “What are you _doing_?”

His grey face is flushed bronze. “I can’t fucking stand you, Jade. You look like some amazoness warrior but you’re like the world’s biggest dork! And you think you know so much about _everything…_ ” He grabs your hips. “I hate it. I hate how right you are, you fucking _human_ …”

You lean against the building, smirking, “I think you just want to fuck. Your bulge is trying to mate with me through your pants.”

“It’s your fault for inviting me and putting me in this position.”

“I know what _position_ you’re thinking of.”

Out of the corner of your eye you see her: Rose calmly walking down the sidewalk, wearing a more revealing purple and black skirt. You hope its cut that short to accommodate for the summer heat. She looks towards you and you need to hide your face. Your first thought is crude but you go with it, grabbing Tavros’s horns and kissing him just as hard as he did with you.

You hear the brownblood give a low purr. He squeezes your ass, pants in your ear, “Let’s find someplace where I can fuck you.”

You push him away, “I did that so _Rose_ wouldn’t see us.”

“Bullshit; we could have _easily_ just hidden behind a garbage can if that’s what you were thinking.” Tavros points out.

Damn it. He called your bluff. “I’m not having sex with you in a motel where we can get shot and or stabbed!”

Tavros waggles his eyebrows. “What about a car?”

Oh, that sounds tempting. “No!” you insist. 

“Liar. And I don’t see what the big deal is.”

You feel the blood rush to your face and back toward the store. You look at the smoggy city horizon and the sun is starting to go down. “You _wouldn’t_. You’re constantly going down on the clown without a care in the world.”

“And you haven’t gone down on anyone?”

“I’m not going to tell you that!” you hiss.

“Ooooh, whats the matter, Harley?” He pinches your ass again, “You suddenly shy about what you got?”

“Shut up.” Rose leaves the store carrying a plastic bag. You walk over to her, “Rose!”

Rose at you, surprised and then confused. “J-Jade? What are you doing here?” A nervous unease crosses her face, “You shouldn’t be here sneaking around. _They_ won’t like…” She takes a breath, revises, “…there’s not supposed to be any loiterers here. You could get arrested.”

“You gotta be kidding me. People loiter here like it’s their job.” you snort, “Where have you been, Rose? You don’t talk to or see us anymore.” You won’t mention the nightmares either.

Rose smiles, eyes darting between you and the building. She inches towards it, like she’s being pulled via magnetism, “I’m fine, Jade. I’ve just been busy with work… which I have to go back to. My boss really likes his teas.”

“Rose we haven’t talked in weeks. Can’t you spare a few minutes for a friend?”

You look at the building and see beside the usual coldblood door guards is a stocky woman, just like how the store owner described (though you’d say her hair is magenta, not pink). There’s a cigarette in her mouth, piercing blue eyes on Rose. Rose mutters, “I have to go now but we can talk later on Trolichum.” She hurries toward the woman, waving, “We’ll talk later! I promise!”

You and Tavros exchange a lot of mutual skepticism. The woman is looking at you and smirks, retreating back inside the building with Rose closely following. Tavros sighs, “Well, that’s that I guess.”

“We’re not leaving!” you grumble.

“And what are we supposed to do now? It’s the Red Quad, Jade. Even _we_ don’t exactly want to be lingering here too long after dark.”

“She was afraid to talk to us in front of her, Tavros.” you insist. “Whatever is going on there isn’t good. She has to come out of that building sooner or later right?”

Tavros looks at the sky as it starts to darken. “You owe me _so much_ for staying out here with you.”

You stare at him and his eyebrows are high and his eyes slanted. “I am _not_ sleeping with you, Tavros!”

“Oh, like I _haven’t_ seen your tits.”

“Yeah, and we were thirteen. You were too much of a doofus to _not_ open the door.”Tavros rolls his eyes and you pause, “…wait, that was an accident… _right, Tavros?”_

Tavros smirks, “What? You were pretty cute when you weren’t trying to irritate Strider to get him to notice you.”

“Shut up about _that_ …” You don’t want to think about Dave while you’re worried for Rose, “Let’s just get something to eat. I can’t think on an empty stomach.”

“Go figure. There’s a reason we called you the Black Hole. You could pretty much eat anything.”

“When you survive my grandpa’s cooking, you _will_ eat anything.”

There’s a Shongolian restaurant on the other side of the grocery store. You order the cheap dinner meals—chorizo wontons and orange chicken burritos accompanied by mounds of carne asada fried rice. There’s only a rickety table with two chairs in the place that you occupy.

“So what’s going on with you and clown boy?”

Tavros frowns, “He’s different.”

“Different how?”

“He flushes me,” And the blush returns to his cheeks, “and I flush him a lot too…”

“Would you have his grubs?”

“ _Jade_!” he growls, embarrassed.

You grin, “I’m gonna take that as a ‘yes’.”

“It’s not a ‘yes’, it’s… it’s a nothing because that’s the end of this conversation!” Tavros huffs, “What about Dave and you?”

You frown, “What about us?”

“It’s obvious you two like each other and you’re just being weird about it.”

“Dave already has someone.” you grumble.

“Yeah but if you ask me they’re in the wrong quadrant.” Tavros says, “They’re constantly agitating each other”—He reaches under the table and rubs your knee—“getting on each other’s nerves while fighting to _not_ make out, just like I’m struggling _not_ to throw everything on this table on the ground and just fuck you right here.”

“I’m human, not a troll,” you mutter, but you’re not squirming away from his hand on your knee, “We don’t have caliginous feelings.”

“That’s crap. Pitch has always been in your human media. You call it love-hate relationships, frenemies, coopetition, vitriolic friendship, rivalry… its always been there, buried in your subconscious. Something that is so hot and arousing, spiteful and loving.”

“And violent.”

“Not always; I didn’t have to hit you to pitch you.”

You take a deep breath and touch his hand, “I… admit I can’t stand you and you’re like my best irritating friend but”—you push the hand away—“not here.”

“Later?”

“No.”

“What if it’s just you and me and you’re trying to make me watching that terrible Squiddles cartoon from the eighties I know you have on DVD?” He sees you blush and he grins, “You sound less sure about rejecting me when I throw that card on the table.”

“Shut up.”

You do more loitering at the shops, looking at bootleg products and foreign owners. You go back to the building when the street lights come up, flooding the area in dull orange-yellows. The streetwalkers and dealers are scouting the areas; packs of Hellcats are on the prowl in baggy pants and muscle shirts. More people are entering the tall green building: suburbanite college students, and nervous looking street-walkers in skirts and dresses. You look at the fire escape and see someone is sitting at the window. You duck down the alleyway to get a better look at it.

Tavros follows you. “Jade,” he says, annoyed, “we should _really_ get going.” You see a garbage bin not far from the fire escape and climb on it to get a better look. You’re not afraid of grime. “Jade. What in the shit are you doing?”

You squint at the window but you can’t see their face; the light coming from behind them casts their face in shadow. You can sort-of make out short blonde hair. “Someone’s looking at us. It could be Rose.”

Tavros looks at the window, “It could be a nutjob.”

You wave to them and they wave back. “I think they’re smiling!”

“…Jade… get off—”

Something goes flying by your ear and hits the wall behind you. A throwing knife is sticking out of the cement. The person climbs out of the window, far too skinny and flexible to be Rose. They step onto the fire escape and you can only make out the little details. White gloves, a baseball cap, face dusted with white powder and blush, and the lips bright red.

“ _Jade_ …” Tavros mutters and he reaches for you.

 

They grin and you can see the glint of a gold fang in his mouth. He holds up his clenched fist, a blade wedged between every finger gap. “More where that came from, poppets.”

You can’t take your eyes off of him. You don’t know why though. Tavros grabs you, tugging you down from the dumpster, “Come on, _Jade!_ ”

He laughs loudly as another knifecomes your way, then another. His laugh is distinctly cartoonish: _haahaa heehee hoohoo!_ It follows you as you run from the alley and soon Tavros and you are a block and a half from the Red Quad and closer to Fairmont Shoppes.You’re panting, standing in a motel parking lot after running on adrenaline.

“Fucking crazy son of a bitch!” Tavros tugs at a tear in his jacket. You look at the fresh cut in his arm, “He fucking nicked me!”

“He got one of my dreads and almost took off my ear.” You offer but the look on the brownblood’s face tells you that isn’t going to fly. “I thought he was Rose!” 

“Then obviously you need your eyes checked cause you almost got us killed!”

“He wasn’t going to kill us. Hurt us most definitely, but killing else hasn’t been confirmed yet.” 

Tavros facepalms. “A mad woman. I’m talking with a mad woman.” He decides, “Whoever Rose is dealing with, they’re foreign and they have money. Another territory war is the last thing the Nines needs.” He grumbles and walks to the bus stop with the crooked sign. “Like I already don’t have enough fucking problems.”

“It’s not that bad.” You say, following him. “They haven’t done to war yet! I doubt anyone one knows they’re here.”

“Only a matter of time.” Tavros mutters.

He’s tense on the bus ride back to the trailer park, even worse because he can’t smoke on it. You lean against him, exhausted from the run and from eating shitty food. “Won’t your clown hate you pitching a human?” you say, trying to take his mind off another possible gang war.

Tavros rolls his eyes, “Just because I’m his matesprit doesn’t mean he dictates my quadrants and I can’t pitch Nepeta, but I can pitch you.”

“Oh, so I’m like a hate runner up?”

“Nah, I’ll always hate you the most. I can arm wrestle you into submission and it’ll be a _challenge_ , and you’ve always been fifty percent cuter than olivebitch.”

“When did you estimate _that_ , pervert?”

“When I grabbed your glute.”

You hit him in the shoulder for that. When you arrive at the trailer park, you kiss him goodbye, pulling on his Mohawk that’s evolving into a mullet, like a Fiduspawn of bad fashion choices.“You could always come by my place…” he purrs.

You walk toward your trailer, “And come back home reeking of weed? Yeah, grandpa would _love_ that.”

“You can only avoid Nitram swag for so long, Harley.”

You pick up a tin can from the road and fling it at his head. It hits his horn and you laugh, “Harley used Evade! _It’s super effective!_ ”

“Ow! That was sitting in the mud! I’m gonna blame you if I get herpes!”

“Like you didn’t already have it, Nitram!”

You pass by Dave’s trailer on your way. The lights are on but the hovertruck is gone, meaning that Dirk and Jake must be on the job. When you were eleven, you went by their trailer to see the fur and skeletal remains of a giant sea-goat that was on a rampage at Dockside. “Emptied nine .458 into this bastard’s hide before he went down. Purple in the water everywhere!” Jake laughed. He let you hold the giant bullet he fished out of the creature; at eight centimeters it was bigger than your hand.

You enter your trailer and your grandfather still in his chair, watching YBBC coverage of the conflict between Bojangles and Southern Bojangles, between saintly democracy and demonized communism (their ideals, not yours). Becquerel is laying at his feet. Grandpa looks at you, “It’s a funny thing. I got a delivery some days ago and when I went to see it today, it had mysteriously disappeared…”

“Yeah, I took it,” You hate beating around the bush with him. You pull out the postcard store in your toolbelt pocket.

“It’s got nothing to do with you, love.”

“I doubt it considering how you hid it from me.”

Your grandfather sighs and mutes the TV. “What do you want to know?”

“Who’s the postacard from?”

“Your mother.”

You wait for the rest of the punchline to the joke but your grandfather is giving you an earnest look. “My mother is dead.” you say.

“I never said she was dead. I said ‘indisposed’.”

“You told me she ran off with some guy in Nehetaly!”

“That… is a half-truth.” Your grandfather admits, “Yes, your mother went to Nehetaly but not because of boarding school. She left Young Britain because the police were looking for her.”

“Why?”

“Your… mother and father got into trouble with a gang called the Cherubs. Your father, my son, was a serious addict and was… involved with your mother and another girl, Tristenna Spokane." That name rings a bell and your grandfather adds, “The heiress to the Spokane Brewing Company.”

That explains why you recognized the name; theories about the disappearance of the Young British heiress Tristenna Spokane (“Troxie” to her friends) popped up in the media. She even showed up on A Canzian Horror Story, using the more popular theory that the heiress had been sold into sexual slavery and had lived and died in the UTC under an assumed name.

So you sit on the couch for what seems like hours as your grandfather tells you the ugly truth about your mother. You had such a clear-cut image of your mother: a spoiled flighty girl with soft features who loved colorful fitting dresses and expensive jewelry; who acted before thinking and was a bit of a cocktease. The reality is that your mother was a stocky woman with a gap in her teeth and candy blue eyes, her short hair dyed a garish pink. She’d been the wrestling champion at her school; a big, bullying, sometimes-sweet often-vicious girl.

“The baking business is a serious matter in Young Britain.” your grandfather says, “You have to be a ‘Betty Crocker’ and her parents were just as cut-throat as she was.”

He tells you how your parents turned criminal to feed their drug habit. They both dropped out of school and off the grid until your grandfather got a call from the police saying they were holding his son in custody and Tristenna Spokane was missing.

“No one could find the girl’s body. Your father said he shot her, but he was under the drug the entire time so who knows? We hushed up his connection to it with money so he could be sent to rehab in peace; one of the many bribes we had to pay out. No one could find Joan and we didn’t think much of it. Then a month later, I got a postcard.” He holds up the postcard, “Just like this one; delivered to my home, addressing me as ‘Dear Boss’ and signed ‘From hell’. It said that I was a grandfather now and she needed money for a safe place to stay because even _she_ knew the Cherubs were no place to have a baby around. Instead of offering her the money up front, I made her deal. She’d take a paternity test and if the baby was my grandchild, I’d pay her and she’d stay out of your life completely. You’d be raised with a proper family.”

He takes the postcard out of the baggy, turning it over, “1000 Young British Pound Sterling for you. After you were born she took your brother and left; most likely she hopped to Nehetaly or Brazilitim, those crime-riddled cesspits.”

“Br-brother…?”

“Yes. Twins.” Your grandfather swallows. “A blonde haired boy and a dark haired girl. I didn’t take him in because he failed the paternity test. God knows here _he_ came from.”

“Why…” Your voice warbles, “…why tell me this now? All these years. Why tell me all about this...n-now…”

“Jade, do you think a nine year old would understand all of that? But I think you’re old enough to know the truth now.” He sighs again, “It’s hard for me to talk about that entire bloody mess but it’s important that you know it. It’s also important that you _not contact her,_ Jade.”

“So, what does the postcard mean then? Is she… looking for me?”

“No. It means she’s here doing whatever with the Cherub. Jade.” He says, firmly, “Do not contact her. She’s a dangerous sociopath.”

You nod. “Okay.”

“Are you… alright?”

“Y-yeah… I think I just need some… fresh air.”

The air in your trailer is too stifling now. You leave the trailer, thinking of your criminal mother and having a brother you’ve never met. You’re halfway down Park Avenue when you recall the woman outside the building, the blonde person with the same blue eyes. Your heart almost skips a beat. Is it just a coincidence?

You look at the Strider trailer. The lights are still on. You go towards it and knock at the door. What are you doing? What if Karkat answers? You stand, feeling jittery until Dave opens it. He frowns, “...please tell me someone isn’t dead or in jail.”

“No _._ I just need a place to stay for a while.”

“Don’t you have a trailer?”

“Are you going to let me in or be an asshole?”

“Just asking.”

He lets you in and the trailer is eerily silent. You can’t see or hear a huffy mutantblood. “Where’s Karkat?”

“Helping Vriska move into her place in the Squalor.”

“Isn’t that where all those homeless people live?”

Dave smirks, “This is the Ninth Ward, Jade. They live _everywhere._ ”

“Mmm…”

Dave frowns, “What’s wrong? It’s not like here to come here moping.” You mutter again, “Jade…?”

“I don’t know…” You flop on the couch, “I spent most of the day with Tavros trying to follow Rose but I think I just missed him.”

“But that’s not what’s bothering you.” Dave sits next to you, “You see Rose?” You nod. “How’s Rose look?”

“Afraid, or maybe in over her head without realizing it.”

“Well, that’s Rose all over. She doesn’t ask people for help.” 

“The people she’s with are dangerous; one of threw knives at Tav and me.”

Immediately, he’s alarmed and moves closer to you. He looks you up and down. It’s embarrassing to have him fuss over you,“Holy shit; are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Dave.” You hold up your half-chopped dread. “This is all they got. And… I think I saw my Mom.” Dave is still looking at you; his expression unreadable. You look at your dirty steel-toed boots. “And my grandfather told me she was… a drug addict and suspected murderer. Oh, and I have twin brother that I may or may not have met. So yeah…” You lean back, “…tonight has been… a lot.”

“You look like you could use a beer.”

You think of Tristenna Spokane and give a weak smile. “Anything but Pabst.”

He laughs, “I’m not _that_ white trash.”

You sit on the back porch and drink wine coolers, enjoying the cool air. It’s been ages since Dave and you just talked without tension. You drink and talk neighborhood gossip. You talk about the police raid on Tate Street and how the trailer was a giant soporin lab. About who’s going to be knocked up after Mirth Gras.(Both of you have your money on Tavros.)

“So Karkat’s out with his grub mama and you’re here drinking wine coolers by yourself? I thought you were Mr. Popular.”

“I’m not so much Mr. Popular and I’m a coolkid loner. John is Mr. Popular.” Dave corrects, “Karkat technically bought the wine coolers to apologize for not being around since he’s got two kids to look after. Whatever.” He shrugs, takes another sip.

“Does it bother you?”

“Not like we can have kids on our own.”

You grin. “He’d already be pregnant if you could.”

Dave grimaces, “That would look _horrible_.”

You smirk, “I think the Strider swag would make things easier; the kid would have your eyes, of course.”

Dave laughs and leans against you. His skin is warm and dotted with sweat. He’s breathing in your ear, “Karkat’s a mutantblood… he’d have my eyes _anyways_ …”

“You’re buzzed, Dave…” You giggle.

“Buzzed doesn’t mean drunk, Harley…”

He pulls away from you and takes off his shades and for the first time you see his eyes that aren’t the bright red you always thought they were but a muddled red-purple. His pale face is flushed. He kisses you and his lips taste like strawberry-flavored malt liquor.“I’ve loved you since middle school…”

Your face reddens, “Dave…you have Karkat…”

He moves closer to you, kissing you again. “…I can’t fucking stand Karkat sometimes with his romcoms and shitty taste in music…he gets to fuck all his pretty troll girls and I can’t even kiss you all over like I want to so. Fucking. _Badly._ ”

His hand is on your hips and the other hand touching your face. The palms and fingers are well worked, just like yours.The touches aren’t exploratory, just light and sensual. “Have you ever considered,” you whisper, “that maybe you’re more pitch for Karkat?”

“Not really… sometimes I forgot that quadrant shit and realize that I’m human and I just want someone, whether it’s one or two.”

“What about three?”

He laughs, “You’re more of a perv than Rose.”

You grin, “I’m not hearing you say you’d _hate_ that idea.”

He stands, taking your hand. “There’s only you and me here right now, so I say we… enjoy this first.”

Your heart is going a mile a minute. You give a big stupid grin, “Alright…”

You go to his bedroom with the ironic band posters and clutter, but there’s enough space on the bed for two. Behind closed doors, you’re more heated. The only light comes from the back porch. You taste the sweat on his skin when you kiss him. You help him unbutton your shirt and and he smiles when he sees your bra.

“B cup. I knew it.”

“You say the most romantic things, Strider.”

He unhooks the bra, cups your breast,“You make it sound like I’m complaining _._ ”

 

You don’t know how much time passes as thing escalate, from touching to licking, kissing, and then leaving hickeys along your body. You sit in his lap, still wearing your boxers and rubbingagainst his erection. Every bump sends a shiver through you both.

“H-hold on a minute…” he pants.

He fumbled with the dresser, opens the top drawer and pulls out a pack of DynamiCHEM Heavenly Drill Condoms. He tears it open with his teeth and seeing him be so eager is exciting.

“Let me put it on.” you say.

“Do you even know how?”

“It’s the same as putting a balloon on a weird sea-slug Barbie.”

“So my dick is now a sea-slug? That’s really romantic.” You smirk and stroke the length of his warm erection, gently sliding the condom over it; watching him squirm and shiver as he tries to keep his cool-kid composure. “Wait… why a _Barbie_ sea-slug?”

“Cause it’s a pretty _blonde_.”

“What are you ta… oh. _Oh_ , that’s so fucking stupid!” he laughs.

You put your arms around his neck. “You started it!”

He smiles, kissing you, “Well I guess I’m finishing it.”

Trying to get into position is awkward. Sex is biological machinery; things have to be rotated and moved to make it work.You shift, rotate, turn and finally you slide and connect. Your glasses slide down your face and he just slides then off. He pushes a little deeper inside you; slow, shallow thrusts. You think pistons rhythmically moving in cylinders. You should probably stop with the machine metaphors but you can’t think of anything else. Soon you stop thinking and just give into instincts. After you climax, you feel like you could melt. For a minute, there’s nothing but your mutual panting and the soft sound of afterglow kissing.

You’re both startled by the scream of sirens. Dave jolts, his back against the wall and cock still buried inside you.  “Police…” you mutter.

“Can you see lights?” Dave asks since you’re facing the window.

“Yeah, I see it going by. They’re in the trailer park somewhere.”

“Somewhere over the smoggy rainbow, way up high.”

You kiss him again, “There’s a land that I’ve heard of in a rap song written by my hipster matesprit.”

He kisses you back, “You could say boyfriend. We are human.”

“We’re not normal humans, not by Old Earth standards. We probably look like weird ambiguously brown freaks who have sex with rainbow-blooded tentacle dick aliens.”

He smirks and strokes your clit with his thumb, making you inhale sharply. “There’s an appeal to both.”

“Is having sex with Karkat like fucking me?”

“A lady never asks and a gentleman never tells. I’m not going to gossip to Karkat about how your vag feels and you’re not going to tell me how copperslut’s bulge was.”

“I didn’t have hatesex with Tavros!”

“But you’re thinking it.” Dave grins, “Oh, yeah. You’re _definitely_ thinking it… _mmm_ …you getting that excited already?”

“Get another condom and we’ll talk, Mr. Lie Detector.”

You slowly pull off of him, shuddering. Dave opens his mouth, but then shuts it when he sees your crotch. You look down and there’s a sticky trail of Dave’s“swag”going from the tip of his dick to your vagina. Semen continues to ooze out the broken condom. You look at Dave. He looks at you. You both come to one simultaneous agreement:

_“FUCK!”_

 


End file.
